


All Hail The King

by Apuzzlingprince



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Non-Binary Frisk, Other, and some fluff of course, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apuzzlingprince/pseuds/Apuzzlingprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long after the events of Undertale, Chara has crowned themselves the new king of the Underground. (A/N: thank you for everyone who expressed interest in this story! Unfortunately, I'm no longer in the fandom and have little desire to continue this story, so it will most likely remain unfinished.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I watch you fast asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'd been thinking about this story for a long time before I started writing it. I tried convincing myself not to, but. Well. I'm weak. So I hope you enjoy this ride as much as I do!
> 
> And, of course, if you like the story and wouldn't mind sparing a few minutes, some feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Waking up was an arduous process, and Frisk did so slowly and reluctantly. Disorientation was trying to persuade them to go back to sleep, but they fought against it, peeling their eyelids apart to peer up at a vaguely familiar cream ceiling. It was then that the disorientation subsided enough for them to have their first comprehensive thought: _I’m alive_. They didn’t understand how that could be the case. Chara had taken complete control of their body, evicting them so they could utilize it as a vessel. They had rendered Frisk helpless to protest the vicious cycle of agony inflicted on Frisk’s friends. So why were they alive?

O _h God_ , Frisk thought to themselves, their mind suddenly ablaze with activity. _Oh God, I'm alive. **I'm alive. A L I V E.**_

They had inhabited the recesses of their own mind for so long, little more than a trickle of consciousness, that they had almost forgotten what it was like to have their own individual thoughts and feelings. It was all so foreign and wonderful. They didn’t understand why they were alive and inhabiting a body – their own body? – but the need to find out was rapidly being replaced by an intense relief. This was the first time they had experienced physical sensation in _years_. All they wanted to do was lay there and revel in the feeling of being _alive._ Of feeling their heart thrumming behind their ribs and their hair tickling their face and their nose aching from a frigid breeze. The tears that beaded at the edges of their eyes were ones of exhilaration. Even the warm wetness that streaked down their cheeks was welcome stimuli.

On instinct, they raised their hands to their face to wipe away the moisture – and froze. Their hands were _huge_. The palms were wide and the fingers long and nimble. They weren’t the hands of a twelve year old child. And, looking down at themselves, neither was the rest of them. Their body was an accurate reflection of the passing of time, however disjointed and vague it had been for them.

Frisk couldn’t find it within themselves to be upset. They had been deprived of the opportunity to experience the growth of their own body, but that didn’t supersede the fact they were alive. Frisk always had been one to look on the bright side of things; it was a quality closely tied to their _determination_. As they examined their strange new body, they couldn’t help but notice the orange tiles beneath them. There was only one place in the Underground that had orange tiles and that was the throne room. Sure enough, as they rose up high enough to look around, they were surrounded by golden flowers.

Moreover, they weren’t alone. A figure was crouched among the flowers, watering them from a can shaped like a rabbit. Thick, platinum blonde fur surrounded two large horns protruding from their head, and they wore thin blue robes on their bulky frame. It was after a lengthy examination that the identity of the individual finally occurred to Frisk.

“Asriel?” Their voice, too, had changed. It was an adult voice to go with their adult body, as strong and deep as they had anticipated it to be.

The figure turned so fast that they uprooted several flowers with the movement. They paid them little mind as they stood, stumbling their way over to Frisk.

“You’re awake! You’re finally awake! I can’t believe it!”

‘Finally’ awake? Just how long had they been lying here? By the time they had managed to pull themselves to their feet, Asriel was reaching for them, setting a tentative hand on their wrist. Frisk's eyes were immediately drawn to his white irises and the black that surrounded them. The last time Frisk had seen them like that, Asriel had been making an attempt on their life.

“I can’t believe it,” they repeated breathlessly. “I mean, I shouldn’t doubt our king, but it's been days since we brought you here. For a while there I thought you weren't going to wake up."

The way they looked at Frisk lacked recognition. Frisk remember Asriel, but Asriel clearly didn't remember Frisk. They tried not to let their hurt show. They didn’t want Asriel to be given the impression they were upset by something he had said, even if that was the case.

“You're Frisk, right?” Asriel asked.

“…Yes, that’s my name,” they said after a considerable pause.

"It's nice to meet you at last, Frisk." Asriel appeared concerned for their well-being, looking them up and down with pinched brows. “Are you alright? You went quiet for a while there.”

“I’m absolutely fine,” Frisk reassured him. “Just a little overwhelmed, is all. This is a lot to take in.” They couldn’t have understated that more if they had tried.

Asriel nodded their head, their large ears rising and falling with the movement. “I know how you feel. I've been in a similar situation. Before I was given this body, I was actually a... a, um… well, it's a long story.” Asriel emitted a high, nervous laugh and diverted their eyes. They clearly weren't sure how to proceed.

Fortunately, Frisk had no such issue. "You can tell me some other time. I'd actually really like to know where the king is.” Frisk glanced to the throne again, as though expecting Asgore to be there. He wasn't. “Is Asgore here?”

“My dad?” Those unsettling eyes dropped even further. “No. We have a new king. We’ve had a new king for a long time now.”

“What happened to Asgore?”

“O-oh, he’s okay. He just spends a lot of time at home, that’s all. He’s okay.” It sounded less like he was stating a truth and more like he was trying to convince himself of it. Frisk felt a surge of pity for him.

“What about m-“ A pause. “Toriel. What about Toriel?”

Asriel failed to look nonchalant as they shrugged. “She’s okay too. Spends all her time in the ruins. The king, um. Doesn’t like to bother her.”

“Oh.” Frisk cast another glance to the empty throne. They had an awful feeling about who now occupied that chair. “Who's our king, then?”

“It’s Chara.” Asriel’s mood suddenly brightened. “My brother – sort of. We’re not really siblings in the sense that we were born together, and they’ve changed an awful lot since our childhood, but I still call them 'brother' sometimes. They’re like you.” He did a sweeping gesture of Frisk’s body. “Human.”

Dread settled in the pit of Frisk’s stomach. “I know I'm asking a lot of questions, but I’m – I’m really confused. When did all of this happen? Last time I was here, _Asgore_ was king, and he was well loved." And Chara hadn't been identifying as male, but that wasn't pertinent information.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind," insisted Asriel. "Chara said you might be a little disorientated when you finally woke up. I should probably find you somewhere to sit down, right?” A gentle hand led them towards a left-most exit, one Frisk didn’t recall having been there the last time they had explored the throne room. Granted, they’d been occupied by other things at the time.

“Chara usurped our father a few years back,” Asriel continued. “Said he wasn’t a fit king and that the Underground was stagnating under his rule. I guess that isn’t untrue, but I still feel really bad for my dad, being told that by his own son.” The hand on their waist withdrew slightly, slipping away, before Asriel caught himself and resumed leading Frisk down a spacious hallway. “The Underground didn’t initially accept their new king, and I guess that’s why Chara gave me a soul and this body. So I could counsel them on how to win the Underground’s favor.”

So Chara provided their brother with the means to feel compassion solely for their own benefit? That sounded about right. Very ‘Chara’. After all this time, it seemed he hadn’t changed much at all, even with the influence of the souls he had absorbed.

Speaking of which, Frisk must have had their own soul – or at least another humans – because there was no absence of the feelings associated with having a soul. Their hand rose to the heart shaped locket seated on their sternum. It was warm.

“ _Did_ Chara win the Underground’s favor?” they asked.

“Not really, no. They would rather I was on the throne, but I think Chara belongs there. I think they have it within themselves to be a great king.”

Frisk didn’t agree, but they didn’t voice their dissenting opinion. It would only upset Asriel. “One more question. Where is Chara?”

Their question wasn’t immediately answered as they had reached their destination. Pushing open a door, Asriel escorted Frisk into a room that was twice the size of their room in the ruins and contained lavish furnishings and a bed far too large to be occupied by a mere one person. Their bare feet tingled as they were led over a plush yellow carpet.

“Chara hasn’t been here for a few days,” Asriel said at last, guiding Frisk into a beautiful paulownia chair. They slumped back into it as though they were exhausted. And honestly, with all this new information to process, that wasn’t far off how they felt. “They’re probably spending time with Sans. That's usually what he does when he goes out.” Asriel laughed in a similar fashion to how he had earlier, high and strained. “They don’t really like each other, but they still spend a lot of time together. Maybe Sans is giving him counsel, too…” While Asriel’s face remained neutral, the line of his broad shoulders grew stiff. It was clear he didn’t approve of their relationship, whatever it happened to be. Frisk couldn’t decipher exactly why that was. They were sure it was loyalty, to some degree, but being visibly agitated by the mere thought of them conversing seemed excessive.

“Sans is probably just teaching them to lighten up,” Frisk offered as a means of comforting Asriel. It elicited a short laugh. Genuine, this time.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s good for Chara to spend time with someone who knows how to relax.” A smile stretched below his snout. “Before I go, did you want to ask anything else? It might take me a while to find Chara and I don’t want to leave you here if you’re still confused.”

“I’m going to be confused no matter what you tell me,” Frisk said with a humorless chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll just ask later. We have time, right?”

“We do,” Asriel confirmed. He drew up to his full height and set a hand on Frisk’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The pressure was light and intended to be reassuring, but the dread in the pit of Frisk’s stomach was only expanding with the thought that Chara would soon be here. They didn’t know what Chara intended for them, and if their past interaction was anything to go by, it wasn’t going to be anything good.

As Asriel turned to leave, a question occurred to Frisk. “W-wait, actually. I do have one more question.”

Asriel peered over his shoulder. “Go right ahead and ask, then. I’m happy to answer.”

“Where did this body come from? I mean, it looks like mine, but…”

“I don’t actually know myself,” Asriel admitted. “I’m sorry. Chara should be able to explain, though.”

“Will they _want_ to explain?”

There was a beat of silence before Asriel answered. “I’ll try to butter them up for you. No promises, though.”

That said, Asriel took their leave. The door creaked shut behind them, followed by the sound of a lock turning. Chara’s orders, though Frisk. They couldn’t imagine someone as kind as Asriel voluntarily locking the door on a guest.

Now alone, the rise of dread was exacerbate by the lack of company to distract them, and they lifted a hand to their chest, curling their thin fingers into their familiar blue sweater. It smelled strongly of golden flowers.

The reminder than no one was dead – _no one was dead_ – knocked about their skull, providing some reprieve from their anxiety. If no one was dead, Chara had to changed at least a little bit. Dictatorship as an alternative to EXP and LOVE wasn't an ideal development, but it was still a step up from killing everyone and then repeating the process on whim.

Frisk ran the backs of their hands over their face to make sure there wasn’t any lingering tear tracks. Their skin felt a little warm, but was otherwise normal. After skimming their thumbs over their lashes to wipe away any remaining moisture, Frisk stood to explore the room.

It was excessively large and lavish, but if was an absolutely beautiful room, if not the most beautiful room in the Underground. Panel flooring had been laid down over the concrete, a rich brown wood that contrasted pleasantly with the warmer tones of the carpet and walls. The walls themselves were the same tawny yellow as the carpet, and were further decorated with vines that slithered in from a window. The furniture had a royalist design to it, some sporting gold trimming and intricate scroll saw patterns, but it was the bed that drew Frisk’s attention overall. It was wide enough to fit at least four people, and lengthy enough to fit someone well over average height. They approached and perched themselves on its end. The quilt was soft and fluffy. It didn’t take Frisk long to give in to the temptation to wiggle their way up to the headboard and lie down.

From here they could see the bedside table. It, like everything else in the room, was beautiful. A stack of dog-eared books sat upon it, from fairy tales to bibliographies, and Frisk was struck by the sudden realization they hadn’t been given this room. It was _Chara’s_. Those were Chara’s books and this was Chara’s bed. Frisk had assumed there was an equally as beautiful room somewhere else that acted as the kings quarters, but that clearly wasn’t the case.

They were lying in Chara’s bed. The thought was an unsettling one. Still, they didn’t move from where they were stretched out over the covers, too comfortable to concede to the urge to return to the chair. They wanted to enjoy the sensation of lying on something as soft as a marshmallow before Chara returned to whisk them off to their own lodgings. Maybe they’d put Frisk in the dungeon, assuming there was a dungeon. If there wasn’t, they wouldn’t put it past Chara to have one built for the sole purpose of housing Frisk.

"Don't be silly," Frisk chided themselves. Living with Chara wouldn't be _that_ bad. There had to be a purpose to bringing them back to life, after all, and it couldn’t be to indefinitely lock them away. Even Chara wasn’t that needlessly cruel.

Time passed slower than it had while Frisk had been encaged in their own mind. They had read something, a long time ago, that had suggested the passing of time was affected by new experiences. The more information your mind had to process, the slower time went. That would explain why it seemed to be tottering along at a snails pace.

It soon became a source of frustration for Frisk, who decided to roll onto their side and reach for a book. The one they picked up had a dried flower stuck in-between the pages in lieu of an actual bookmark. Out of curiosity, Frisk turned to the page Chara had been on. 

> _A sense of helplessness took hold of Winston. The old man's memory was nothing but a rubbish-heap of details. One could question him all day without getting any real information. The party histories might still be true, after a fashion: they might even be completely true. He made a last attempt.  
>  _

An interesting enough passage. Frisk decided to flip back to the prologue and continue from there. Suffice to say, it wasn’t a happy story. They began to see why it might appeal to Chara within the first few pages.

They were well beyond the chapter Chara had reached when the lock on the door audibly clicked. A moment later, Asriel peeked inside.

“Frisk…? Oh! You’re on the bed.”

“It’s very comfortable,” Frisk said while closing the book and shimmying to the edge of the mattress. “Did you end up finding Chara?”

“I did, eventually. Sorry for making you wait so long.”

“It’s alright.” Frisk’s lips pulled into a smile. “I managed to entertain myself while you were gone.”

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.” The door was pushed open until there was enough space for Asriel to step inside. “Chara’s waiting in the throne room if you want to talk to him. If you don’t, uh. Well. I’m not sure how he’d respond to that, but if you need more time…?”

Frisk shook their head. “I should get it out of the way. If I ask that Chara wait, they’ll just get upset, right?”

“Maybe.” Asriel was nervously rubbing the nape of his neck, where the fine white fur had risen, no doubt. “Chara’s really… they’re really not a bad guy. I mean, sometimes he is. But he's getting better. I think.”

That wasn’t terribly convincing, and Frisk said as much. “That’s not terribly convincing.”

“Just wait and see,” Asriel said. There wasn’t a lot of conviction in his voice.

Frisk rose off the bed to approach him, giving him a reassuring pat on the elbow as they exited the room. Asriel had always exhibited an unhealthy dedication their brother and evidently that hadn’t changed with time. Frisk couldn’t say they were surprised. The only thing that hadn’t been sullied by his time as Flowey was the memory of Chara, and they had held onto it like a lifeline. That line wasn’t as taut as it used to be, but it was still there. Asriel still wanted and needed his brother.

Frisk didn’t let themselves slump or drag their feet. They stood tall with their hands at their sides and their chin raised, their projection of confidence belied only by the slight hesitation that plagued each footfall. Asriel followed behind them. When orange tile finally gave way to dozens of golden flowers, Frisk turned to the throne, where he knew Chara would be. And Frisk was right. Chara was unceremoniously draped across the throne with an elbow on an armrest and his chin in hand, looking incredibly bored. Asgore’s crown was perched upon his auburn hair.

Asriel stepped past Frisk to greet Chara, who didn’t even raise their head to look at them. He was staring at Frisk, and Frisk was staring back.

Looking dejected, Asriel retreated into the background to observe.

“Frisk,” Chara began, gesturing for Frisk to come forward. “It’s good to see you awake.”

Frisk remained where they were. “Why am I alive?” They weren’t going to bother with pleasantries. As nice as person as Frisk was, it was impossible not to hold some resentment over the awful things Chara had subjected them to.

“You’ve always been alive, just not in the physical sense of the word.” Chara smiled, soft and pleasant. “Aren’t you pleased? I’ve freed you.”

“I want to know _why_.”

“I’ll get to that.” It was only as Chara rose from the throne that Frisk took notice of the cape draped over his shoulder. He was disgracing Asgore’s title and he wasn’t even wearing the royal attire properly while doing so. Frisk frowned.

“I don’t understand what you're trying to do here. I thought you wanted to kill everyone, including your brother.” Frisk glanced to Asriel for input, who said nothing. They then continued speaking. “Are you just waiting until you get bored of playing leader to go around murdering all the residents of the Underground again?"

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Chara lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I have no intention of harming the residents of the Underground; I’ve grown beyond the juvenile need to collect EXP and LOVE.”

“ _Have you_?” Frisk knew distress was starting to seep into their voice, but there wasn’t anything they could do to stop it. “Why should I believe you after everything you did? Why should I believe you’re a better person?”

“I’m not,” Chara answered. He had closed the space between them and gingerly set his hands upon Frisk’s shoulders. “You misunderstand; I’m not trying to tell you I’ve _repented_. My priorities have changed. That is all. I have no desire to kill the residents of the underground because I have _better_ things to do with my time, not because I regret my actions.”

Frisk’s muscles became stiff and unpliable beneath Chara’s grip. “I don’t – I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Does it matter? The monsters are being allowed to live their lives. They’re happy. That’s all you should concern yourself with.”

“But…” Frisk couldn’t think of how to continue, so they changed topic. “Why am I here, then? What are you going to do to me?”

“There you go, jumping to conclusions again.”

Frisk’s jaw tightened in frustration. “Then _correct_ me. Don’t just mock me about it!”

The hands on Frisk’s shoulders withdrew, returning to Chara’s sides. Chara didn’t look happy to be the recipient of Frisk’s hostility. “I’m not going to do anything to you. I’ve brought you here for a specific purpose, and it isn’t one that involves inflicting any form of harm upon you. Harming you would gain me nothing.”

Frisk was going to take that at face value, if only because Chara was exhibiting genuine emotion. “What’s the ‘specific purpose’, then?”

“To improve public favor.”

Frisk just barely managed to refrain from scoffing. _Of course_ that was what Chara had brought them back for. “I don’t know why you think I’d be able to do that. No one remembers me.”

“You’re a positive example of a human being. That will reflect well on me.”

“You really haven’t changed.” Frisk shook their head in disappointment. “I guess I don’t really have a choice but to do what you ask, huh?”

Chara paused. “I hadn’t really thought about what I would do if you said no, but you probably don't want to find out.”

“Do I get an official title? Or do I just have to wander around telling everyone how _great_ you are?”

Chara laughed. It was a short, soft laugh, and didn’t have the unearthly quality to it that Frisk had become so familiar with. “You’ll be Ambassador. I believe you were offered that role once long ago, but never had the chance to see it through.” He spread his hands with flourish. “Well, here’s your chance.”

Frisk turned to Asriel, who was still observing them from afar, his white eyes staring with an unsettling intensity. “Isn’t Asriel your Ambassador?”

“Of course not.” Chara gestured for Asriel to approach, who slunk over with visible unease. Chara draped an arm over Asriel’s shoulders. “He provides me with council, but he’s still the prince. Isn’t that right, Asriel?”

“Tha- that’s right, yes.” A strained grin parted his lips. It was very toothy, and his canines were certainly sharper than Frisk remembered. “But that’s not important. Do you understand the role of Ambassador, Frisk?”

“Kind of. I don't exactly have a lot of experience to draw on." When it had been proposed they be the ambassador of humans and monsters Frisk had tentatively accepted, but even then Frisk had known it was a job better suited to someone with more political experience, and they were especially aware of that now that they were old enough to understand the intricacies of the role. They hadn’t any idea where to begin, and Toriel wasn’t around to provide cues.

- _Hang on_.

Frisk’s eyes lit up.

Toriel _wasn’t_ dead, she _was_ around. Frisk would only need travel to the ruins to solicit advice.

“You look pleased with yourself," Chara observed, a touch impatient. "Come one, Frisk; share with the rest of class.”

“Give them a moment, Chara," Asriel interrupted. "They’ve only been back for a few hours and we’re already asking an awful lot of them.”

Chara grunted, but seemed to concede.

“Actually, I _have_ thought of where I could start.” Both Dreemurr’s looked expectantly at Frisk. “If you let me to leave, I’ll be able to talk to Toriel. She’ll be able to give me some direction.” Frisk finished with a lopsided twist of their lips, attempting and failing to look self-assured. All those years of being squeezed into the recesses of their own mind had taken its toll on their determination. It wasn’t as strong as it once was.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Asriel murmured, and then looked to Chara for support.

Much to his Asriel’s dismay, Chara displayed no disapproval. He merely shrugged. “I’ll permit it.”

"Chara..." Was all Asriel offered in protest.

"Is it alright if I go now?" Frisk asked.

"Definitely not. You aren't even wearing shoes." Chara slipped away from Asriel and returned to his throne, throwing himself upon it. "You aren't to go beyond my fathers house until I've finished bringing you up to speed, which I'll be doing later. Right now, the prince seems to want to speak to me in private." He flapped his hands in a 'shooing' gesture. "Go."

This came as a relief to Frisk, who wanted nothing more than to leave. There was a dreadful, palpable tension in the room that was like descended ether, and it was inescapable so long as Frisk remained in the presence of Asriel and Chara. Without another word, they turned to start walking away.

"And Frisk?"

Frisk paused to listen to Chara's departing words.

"If I find you've disobeyed me, there _will_ be consequences."

Skin crawling with trepidation, Frisk skittered the rest of the way out the door. They didn't want to think of what those 'consequences' could possibly be.


	2. Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First of all, thank you very, very much for all the feedback! The amount of interest I’m seeing is really encouraging! And @Ruby and anyone else reading this fic, feel free to point out any typos or grammar errors, because I’m always looking to improve! 
> 
> I want to provide just a small warning for this chapter. There is some mild sexual content, but it is very mild, so I don’t think it’s going to offend any sensibilities. 
> 
> That said, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

‘Beyond my father’s house’ Chara had said, meaning Frisk could enter the house itself, and that was exactly what Frisk intended to do. Asriel’s comments regarding Asgore had them worried; they wanted to make sure the former king was still in good health. After cultivating a bit of a relationship they might even be able to broach the topic of Asgore’s self-imposed isolation. He didn’t seem like the type of monster who thrived in solitude. He needed his friends.

The path to Asgore’s house was as long and tedious as Frisk remembered. The dull, monochrome surroundings made for poor scenery, and while there was a slight reprieve in the beauty of the hall that connected the monarchy to its people, its brevity meant they spent most of the journey seeing nothing but shades of grey. It was a relief when they finally reached Asgore’s house. Trotting up to the front door, Frisk raised a fist above their shoulder to begin knocking. They didn’t get the chance. With a sun hat on and a watering can in hand, Asriel gaped at them from within the left-most alleyway. There were vines crawling out from within it. He must have been using his free time to extend his garden.

“Hi,” Frisk greeted shyly.

“Howdy,” Asgore offered in reply. His voice was very soft. Which wasn’t uncharacteristic of the gentle giant, but Frisk had only ever heard his voice reach that volume during moments of great despair.

Frisk swiped their tongue across their lips. A nervous habit. “Sorry, it – it must be pretty uncomfortable to see another human down here. You’re wondering how I got here, right?”

Asgore lowered his watering can to the floor before he responded. “The same path as all the others, I would guess. Through the mountain-top entrance. It’s quite a fall. Are you alright?”

“Oh, no. There was no falling involved. I actually came from the throne room.” Frisk jerked a thumb over their shoulder. “I’m not sure how.” Either Chara had changed the location of their save point, or Frisk had been carried there from the ruins as Asriel had implied. Frisk wasn’t going to ask. As far as they were concerned, the period of their life that had necessitated reloads was over and done with and they were going to make every effort to keep it that way.

“Nor am I, but I’m glad you see you’re alright.” Asgore slipped out of the alleyway. His tense posture had softened. “Have you come here to talk? I have some tea brewing if you would like a cup.”

The last time they had spoken, there had been no time for tea. Frisk smiled. “You don’t mind? I mean, after what Chara has done, I wouldn’t blame you if you’d rather I leave.”

Asgore flinched at the mention of Chara. “I’ve already made the mistake of using the actions of a few to justify harming the many once before, and I won’t be making it again. If nothing else, my – child’s behavior has shown me what a fool I had been.” Grief and fatigue were inscribed on his face in every wrinkle and every imperfection, and his shoulders, vacant of those imposing gold shoulder pads he had once worn, had begun to slump. The only reason Frisk didn’t hug him was to avoid invading his personal space.

“Then I’d be happy to have tea with you.” Frisk approached the door, waiting until Asgore was at their heels before opening it.

“The only type I have available is Golden Flower. Is that alright?”

“I’ve never had that before,” Frisk mused. “It sounds nice.”

“It is. I think you’ll like it.”

Side by side they entered his lounge room, where Asgore invited Frisk to sit down. Frisk did, sliding into an additional chair that had been dragged before the fire. It wasn’t cold enough to justify having it going, but it was on and crackling away regardless. Frisk enjoyed the sight of the flames. They reminded them of a happier time.

There was some activity in the kitchen before Asgore exited with two steaming cups of tea in hand. He offered one to Frisk.

“Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

Asgore’s armchair gave a harsh groan as Asgore settled into it. He didn’t pay it any mind, stretching his legs out before himself and setting his saucer upon his thighs.

Frisk hesitated. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me about Chara, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Additional lines seemed to add themselves to the multiple that had already gathered beneath Asgore’s eyes. “No, it’s alright,” he said in a voice that was weary, but accommodating. “Answering your questions is the least I can do.”

“Thank you,” Frisk spoke quickly, reaching with their free hand for Asgore. They squeezed his fingers. “I’m so confused, so it’ll mean a lot to me. You’ll really be helping me.”

“I’m always glad to be of help,” Asgore said, smiling faintly. “Where did you want me to start?”

“I’d like to know how Chara became king, if that’s alright.”

Heaving a miserable sigh, Asgore nodded his head. “It’s been a good while since it happened, but I can recall the event vividly…”

* * *

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I disagree.”

“Chara, please. Our mother has a hard enough time coping with the state of things without bringing another human into the mix.”

Chara regarded Asriel with disdain. “She’ll cope. She witnessed my death and the death of six other children and coped. She witnessed my return and coped. I think she can cope with the presence of another human.” He held up a hand to forestall interruption. “I say it again, Asriel, because I know you have selective hearing: She _will_ cope.”

“But I’m worried about her,” Asriel protested in that high, whiney way he always did when upset. “She was practically inconsolable the last time I saw her!”

“That was months ago. She would have recovered by now.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think seeing your dead child demand the monarchy is the kind of thing you recover from that fast.” Asriel seated themselves on the arm of Chara’s throne, leaning into him in an imploring fashion. Chara allowed this and even shifted to accommodate the broad torso of his counselor. “Couldn’t Frisk talk to dad instead? He’s taken everything a little better than mom has.”

“Which is surprising considering how traumatic his fall from power was.” Chara snorted as he recalled the event. It was no surprise Asgore seldom left his house. He’d been forced into a duel for the monarchy by his ‘deceased’ child and then made to relinquish his crown and ensemble upon his defeat. He had failed his citizens and been humiliated in the process. “But I suppose he was a miserable old king to begin with, so being demoted to a miserable old citizen wasn’t that big a change for him.”

Asriel looked unamused. “You know I don’t like it when you talk about dad that way.”

“You were the one who brought him up.”

“Not so you could make fun of him,” Asriel groused. “You should be nicer when you talk about dad. He practically handed that crown to you.”

“He _did_ hand the crown to me, presumably while in a state of shock after I had thrown him across the room. He did look awful pale.”

“Our fur is _white_ , Chara.”

“Yes, but I have incredible eyesight.”

“Only because you have six sets of eyes!” Asriel exclaimed while descending lower, nuzzling his face into the crook of Chara’s neck. There was an instantaneous increase in Chara’s body temperature.

“Possessing six souls doesn't mean I have six _eyes_ , and stop doing that.” He planted a hand on Asriel’s forehead in an attempt to immobilize him. “You know that’s sensitive.” Asriel persisted despite his demand, opening his broad, toothy maw to lick a line up the pale flesh. Chara felt a shuddering wave extend from his torso.

“I wouldn’t think to touch it if I didn’t know,” Asriel stated. He slid into the throne beside him, his significant girth forcing Chara to drape a thigh over his lap. This gave him better access to Chara, who made no further attempts to push him away. It would be dishonest to do so. He quite enjoyed the way Asriel lavished attention on him.

“This isn’t going to change my mind, you know,” Chara said, even as Asriel licked and nipped and held him so close that he was sure Asriel could hear his heart beating away in his chest. “Frisk will be seeing mom. End of story.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Asriel whined. This statement was offset by the affectionate way he was nuzzling into Chara.

“You say as you drape yourself over me like a wet cloth.”

“So mean,” Asriel repeated, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of Chara’s mouth. “Even when I give you the best kisses and hugs.”

“You’re so soppy,” Chara scoffed. Asriel’s teeth wrapped gently around the shell of an ear, provoking a gasp – one Chara was annoyed to have uttered. There were various sensitive areas on his body and Asriel was well aware of all of them, taking advantage at every available opportunity.

“You’re not usually this proactive.” To Chara’s credit, he managed to keep his voice steady despite Asriel’s efforts. “That’s an indication you’re upset about something.”

“You were insulting our dad _just_ a minute ago. That’s upsetting no matter how many times you do it,” Asriel murmured. His warm breath ticked Chara’s jaw. “ _And_ you won’t listen to me when you’re the one who appointed me your counselor. That’s really unfair.”

“I know you’re omitting something,” Chara murmured, twisting around to frown at Asriel. His bright red eyes were barely visible under his long lashes. “Could it be you’re _jealous_ of Frisk?” The way Asriel flinched suggested he was on the right track. His mouth curved into a grin. “Ohh, are you worried they’re going to take your place?” he pressed. “They are awful sweet, aren’t they, and I do like sweet things-“

He was being pinned to the seat of the throne before he could even think to protest. Asriel’s hands had wrapped tight around his upper arms, while his knees were either side of Chara, securing him in place. “I was Flowey for a very long time, you know. You’re never the same after something like that.” One of his fingers snaked into the neck of Chara’s sweater, tugging it until it was low enough for him to resume mouthing Chara’s neck. “And you’re always bringing the worst out of me.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes _sss_.” Chara practically had to breathe the words with how distracting Asriel was being. His head dropped back and he closed his eyes, his soul quivering within his chest in threat of expulsion, as it was prone to do when Chara was overwhelmed. And Chara was very easy to overwhelm, being a creature that was composed primarily of raw essence.

“So what were you doing with Sans earlier?” Asriel questioned, his free hand venturing beneath Chara’s sweater. “You sure spend a lot of time with him, Chara. Why is that?”

“Don’t get overconfident,” Chara said with the intention of warning Asriel, but his voice was wavering so much that he doubted it was effective. “The purpose of our time together is a private matter, you don’t – hnng!” His chest shuddered up and down with a series of gasping breaths. Asriel’s fingers were positioned just above his soul, stroking the skin there.

“Shouldn’t you be communicative with your counselor? I could give you advice.”

“D-don’t need advice.”

“You _know_ that isn’t true, Chara.”

That exploring hand was playing him like an instrument. Either he was easy to please, or Asriel had been molesting a pillow as means of practice. He was going to assume it was the latter.

“Oh good lord,” a hoarse voice whispered from the Throne Room entrance.

Asriel shot up so fast that Chara very nearly slid out of the throne. Fortunately, Asriel’s knees kept him in place long enough for him to find some purchase. “Dad!? We- we were just-” Asriel scrambled off of Chara and smoothed down his outfit with all the desperation of a disobedient child. “We just had a fight, is all! We were fighting!”

“With our mouths,” Chara muttered. With some effort, he managed to drag himself upright by the arms of the throne, looking across the room once he had resumed viewing it from its intended perspective. Asgore and Frisk were standing in the entrance. While Asgore was openly mortified, Frisk was staring at the floor, blushing faintly and shuffling from side to side.

“Please, don’t try to make excuses,” said Asgore, slowly stepping deeper into the throne room. Frisk followed suit, albeit with clear reluctance. “I won’t question what you do with your free time. I merely came here to ask you where you intend to have young Frisk sleep.”

“O-oh.” Asriel looked inquisitively to Chara. “Do we have a spare room I don’t know about?”

“No,” Chara replied. He ran a hand up through his hair and brushed it back behind his ears in an attempt to neaten it. “I thought we could throw a mattress into a corner.”

“Chara, we can’t make them sleep on the floor!” Asriel protested. He had certainly recovered fast from being discovered in a compromising position by their father.

“They’ve already slept on the floor, and it seemed like they slept well.”

“Th—that’s different!”

“Couldn’t I sleep at Asgore’s house instead?” Frisk piqued up.

Chara considered this. “I don’t know if the old man deserves company.”

“I can sleep elsewhere during the night, if need be. I don’t want to be the reason they have to sleep on a floor.” Asgore’s gaze dropped, as it so often did when he was in Chara’s presence. Chara didn’t think it was from intimidation. His father was a soft man, but he wasn’t one easily intimidated. He suspected it was out of shame for what had become of the boy he’d once raised with all the love one would extend a biological child.

If there was one bad thing about being a king, it was having to think about the future instead of acting on impulse. Chara rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I’ll be nice, this once. During the night Frisk can stay with you.”

“Will I be required to leave?” Asgore asked.

“No. Not unless you give me reason to change my mind.”

“Thank you,” said both Asgore and Frisk. Ever the polite man, his father, and he seemed to be rubbing off on Frisk already. Having them spend time together might be a good thing in the long run. Chara didn’t want to have to deal with Frisk’s recalcitrant attitude more than he already had.

Asriel hovered over him. “Chara, would you like me to…?”

“Yes, go on,” Chara murmured, slinging an arm over his face. “Dismiss him, but keep Frisk here.”

“Alright.” He heard Asriel adjust himself. “The king wants to talk to myself and Frisk alone.” In a whisper, he added. “Sorry, dad.”

“I don’t mind. I understand you must be very busy.” Shuffling footsteps. “I’ll see you tonight, Frisk.”

“Bye,” said Frisk, their voice soft.

The doors shut with a thud behind their father. There was the faint sound of Asgore retreating, and then silence. It was only after hearing Asriel dismiss themselves and retreat into their bedroom – presumably to freshen up after their ‘conversation’ – that Chara drew his arm away from his face so he could see what Frisk was doing. Still shuffling from foot to foot, Frisk returned his stare.

“You haven’t moved,” he observed.

“I thought you might get upset if I did,” Frisk replied, shrugging. “You haven’t given me any instructions.”

“That’s a rather quick change of heart. You were so intent on pushing your boundaries before.”

“Yeah, well…” Frisk turned their face away. “After the things Asgore has told me, I decided it would be better if I didn’t.”

“Oh?” How curious. Chara leaned forward in his chair, setting his elbows on his knees. “What did he tell you?”

“Telling you won’t get him in trouble, will it?”

Chara disregarded their concern. “I want to know. Tell me.”

“Okay. Okay.” Frisk picked absentmindedly at the sleeve of their sweater. They were going to need a new one if they kept that up for much longer. “He said you told him everything. About the resets, about the deaths. And used that to blackmail him so he would publicly endorse you as the new king. I should have guessed as much, but…” They sighed. “I really hope this doesn’t get him into trouble. He was only answering my questions.”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about him when you have yourself to worry about. You are, after all, right here before me, and I would have to exert a lot more effort to reach Asgore.” Besides which, the former king had already reached their peak of misery and there was little Chara could do to make him feel worse. Frisk was still fresh. Frisk had yet to be broken.

And Frisk seemed to realize this because they were withdrawing with a grimace. “But I told you what you wanted to know.”

“I didn’t especially like what I heard. I had intended to explain the events that transpired myself.”

“You- you can still do that,” Frisk implored. “You can tell me from _your_ perspective.”

That was true. His father had skimmed over the gritty details, no doubt. “I can, and I probably will at some point. But first, I'd like you to divulge the rest of what he told you.”

“I thought you didn’t like what you were hearing…?”

“And yet, since I’ve asked you to continue, that should imply my negative feelings don’t outweigh my desire to know.” He pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyes in a demonstration of exasperation. Which wasn’t something he was actually feeling, but he wanted Frisk to feel as embarrassed as they ought to. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

“Jeeze, okay.” There was a touch of exasperation in Frisk’s own voice, but that was smothered the moment Chara looked up at them with a frown. “To be completely honest, he didn’t tell me much else. Just explained how you became king, and then told me about Asriel.” Frisk cast a glance to Chara’s sleeping quarters. The prince had yet to emerge. “After that we started speaking about sleeping arrangements.”

“If you’re wondering, yes. Asriel sleeps in there was well,” Chara informed them.

Evidently Frisk hadn’t been wondering, because they looked incredibly embarrassed when they resumed facing Chara. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“I’m sure you would have eventually, soft-hearted as you are.” To care about others well-being was just in Frisk’s nature.

“What does that make _your_ heart?”

Chara provided no answer. They just smiled. “Come over here, Frisk.” He gestured to the space typically occupied by Asriel, the right of his throne.

“Huh? Why?” Frisk glanced at their hand, and then back to their face.

“Come over here,” Chara repeated, gesturing with greater intensity to the floor. “Stand at my side.”

It took Frisk a few moments to overcome their bewilderment and comply. On uncertain feet, they traveled across the throne room and to the spot beside Chara, standing there and looking quite out of place while doing so. Chara stood from the throne and first examined Frisk, before moving into their personal space. Frisk would be able to feel his breath on their nose. There was only an inch worth of height different between them, but he was sure it felt like a great deal more to Frisk, who didn’t seem able to meet his unwavering gaze.

“Asriel mentioned you were curious as to the origins of your body.” Chara lifted a hand and swept some of Frisk’s hair off their shoulder. It was longer than his own, and much fuller. “It’s your original body.”

Frisk startled. “What about you? Didn’t you need it?”

“I created my own body. With enough determination, there’s little I can’t do.”

“But-“ Their jaw was loose and their eyes wide. “If you could do that, why did you use mine for so long?”

“Because I wanted to.” It hadn’t been to deprive Frisk of their body; it hadn’t been to torture them; it was as simple as ‘I wanted to’, because Chara did whatever he wanted to do with no concessions for the well-being of others.

“Because you wanted to,” they repeated dully.

Chara had anticipated some tears, maybe even some anger, but Frisk did little more than stare at their feet in hollow acceptance of their circumstances. They were more damaged from their time as Chara’s vessel than Chara had expected.

A feeling of something – something _foreign_ and _awful_ stirred in his chest, and he tore himself away before it could fully develop. The souls he had absorbed could be more trouble than they were worth at times, even if they did enable him to maintain a stable form.

He started a stride for the bedroom exit. “You’ve been brought up to speed. Tomorrow morning I’ll locate some shoes for you.”

Frisk took a step after them. “W-where do I go? Do I stay here?”

“I don’t care what you decide to do.”

Chara disappeared into the hallway before they could utter anything else.


	3. It all comes falling down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, readers! To everyone who has given this fic a kudos, comment, bookmark, or even a view, thank you very much! The feedback I've received thus far has been really encouraging and I've managed to finish this chapter a lot faster than I thought I would as a result. It's a good 4,000+ words, too! I hope you all enjoy it.

As promised, shoes were provided to Frisk the following morning. A shabby pair of red sneakers that clashed horribly with their blue sweater, but they would have to do until something better was discovered among the trash discarded by the humans dwelling above. That could take months if Frisk was lucky, years if they weren’t. Frisk had already relinquished any hope of a replacement and was cautiously trotting around in them (they had to be careful or the worn soles wouldn’t last).

A small golden bracelet had been slipped around their wrist just prior to their departure. “That should ensure you aren’t bothered on your way to the ruins,” Chara had said while retreating back into his sleeping quarters. It was the only thing they had said to Frisk all morning. They weren't sure why he was so reticent all of a sudden. Maybe he had become bored of taunting Frisk? Or, just as likely, Asriel had managed to convince him to cut Frisk some slack. Whatever the reason, Frisk was grateful for the brief reprieve from his ire.

They didn’t immediately begin their journey through the Underground. They first dropped by Asgore’s place for a drink and a chat, and after a few delicious cups of golden flower tea felt invigorated enough to begin the grueling trek to the ruins. Asgore waved at them until they were out of sight.

The bracelet functioned exactly as Chara had said it would. As long as it could be seen, the monsters kept their distance. Even those who had once been their friend refused to approach. Napstablook was especially skittish, disappearing from sight when Frisk raised a hand in greeting. The only one who acknowledged them for any significant period of time was Undyne, who glared at them from the entrance of their massive, fish-shaped house. Frisk found the familiarity of the expression comforting. They smiled, which no doubt confused Undyne because she continued to watch them long after they had resumed focusing on the path ahead.

Snowdin remained active despite Frisk’s presence. No one approached Frisk, but no one ceased what they were doing, either. The residents of Snowdin simply didn't care. As they passed the sentry station a short ways out of town, they noticed Sans standing behind it, watching them pass, silent in his observation. The lights in his sockets had been pinched out. Frisk felt unsettled enough by the empty black holes not to return the gaze. They felt as though Sans was judging them.

_You feel your sins crawling on your back._

Just how much did Sans remember?

They tried not to let that thought trouble them as they journeyed the rest of the way to the ruins. Once upon a time, Toriel had asked that they never return. That was a promise Frisk wasn't going to be able to keep. “Sorry, Toriel,” they murmured, rapping their knuckles against the door. When no answer came, they rapped again. Their rapping soon developed into thumping, and then yelling. “Toriel! Toriel! I need to speak to you!” It was several long minutes before they heard heavy footsteps approach.

“Hello? Who’s there?” asked the muffled voice of Toriel, and it was as soft and sweet as Frisk remembered.

“H-hi, it’s Frisk. I was sent to talk to you by Chara.” Frisk grimaced. What a terrible first impression. They should have waited until they had become acquainted before mentioning Chara. Now Toriel would be on guard before they had even begun to converse.

While Frisk fretted over their introduction, the passage to the ruins swung open in invitation. Toriel waited within. She didn’t step beyond the barrier to greet Frisk.

It was on uncertain feet that they ambled inside. “It’s nice to see you-” _Again_. “Toriel.”

“I can’t yet say the same, I’m afraid,” Toriel replied solemnly. As she stepped past Frisk to close the door, Frisk noticed thick black bags under her eyes, further emphasized by the shadowed interior of the ruins. Frisk almost gasped at the sight of them. It looked like she was dealing with Chara’s rule about as well as Asgore was. 

After Toriel had finished sealing the ruins, she turned to Frisk. “What is it Chara wants us to talk about?”

“It was my idea, actually,” Frisk said, rubbing at the nape of their neck. "They just gave me permission to talk to you."

Much to their dismay, Toriel’s brows descended into a frown. It was one of confusion rather than hostility, but Frisk’s insides squirmed all the same. They felt like an inconvenience (which, frankly, they probably were). “What, then, do you want us to talk about?” she asked.

“I was hope we could get to know each other first?” Frisk suggested with adverted eyes. “I’m – I’m not like Chara, I promise, and I haven’t come here to harass you on their behalf. If I had it my way I wouldn’t be trapped down here at all.” In a mumble, they added. “No one would.”

When they looked back up to see if Toriel was still frowning, they found her expression had softened. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make you feel unwelcome. It’s just been…” A beat of silence. “Difficult, accepting the way things are now.”

“I don’t blame you,” Frisk said while shaking their head. “If I wasn’t so relieved to be alive I’d be overwhelmed by, just. _Everything_.” They managed to calm themselves before too much emotion could breach their voice. “It’s all so different, and not in a good way.”

“I’m glad I’m talking to someone who understands.” Toriel set a hand on one of their thin shoulders and began to guide them through the basement. “Come upstairs, child; I can give you something to eat and drink.” Their mouth pressed into a thin line. “With that in mind, has Chara been feeding you?”

“Oh, yeah. Sort of.” It wasn’t Chara who delivered food to Frisk. It was Asriel. They had only received dinner last night because Asriel had saved them a slice of kidney and vegetable pie as an afterthought, and that had been their only meal since waking up. They hadn’t received breakfast. “I had dinner,” they continued. “I guess I could have had breakfast with Asgore, but I didn’t think to ask.”

The hand on Frisk’s shoulders slid up to their scalp and pet their hair. “Well, I’ll be happy to provide you with a meal any time you need it. I always make a surplus of food.”

“Thanks,” said Frisk sheepishly, fiddling with the bracelet on their wrist. It was probably a good thing it was there considering how frayed the edges of their sweater already were. They licked their lips and picked at their sweater all too often - two nervous habits they'd developed as a young child.

Noticing this, Toriel tilted her head. “And what is that you have there?”

“This?” Frisk raised the bracelet up high enough for Toriel to see. It was a beautiful piece of jewellery. A shimmering gold band with perfectly rounded rubies embedded in the precious metal. “It was given to me so I wouldn’t be bothered on my way here.”

“Oh. I see,” murmured Toriel. "You might not want to wear it too often."

There was a brief lull in conversation as they ascended the stairs. Upon reaching the top, Frisk was engulfed by a body of warm air. Toriel must have lit the fire. They made a beeline for for the lounge room and dropped into a sit before the crackling flames, eagerly reaching out to them with their palms. Close enough to warm their chilled extremities, but far enough not to be in danger of self-inflicted burns.

Toriel arrived shortly after and sat down in their armchair. “Had I known you were coming I would have taken my chair from my room and set it out for you. Would you like me to do that?”

“No, but thank you. I’m comfortable down here.” The floor was warm enough that they could have slept on it, honestly.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” They withdrew their hands from the flames, pressing them to their thighs to warm the skin there. “So what do you do for food around here? Just out of curiosity. The ruins don't seem like the best place for ingredients." Frisk already knew the answer, of course, but as far as Toriel was concerned this was the first they had ever spoken. Frisk intended to rebuild their relationship from the ground up.

"You'd be surprised by what you can do with a few decent sized snails," began Toriel.

It was after a lengthy conversation about snail related consumables that Frisk decided to broach the topic that had brought them to the ruins. They dug their fingers into their palms, trying to find the nerve to utter the words they knew would upset Toriel. They hated upsetting Toriel. They hated upsetting _anyone_.

“Chara wants me to improve their public image and I’m not really sure how to go about it," they blurted out. The abrupt change of subject seemed to startle Toriel into silence, because she offered nothing in reply.

“I’m sorry to burden you with my problems,” Frisk added quickly. Maybe this had been a bad idea. “I didn’t know who else to ask and I thought you’d be able to help. You don't have to if you don't want to, though.”

She released a short, ragged breath before she spoke. “No, it’s quite alright, my child. I’d rather you come to me than worry about doing something to upset Chara. I know he has a temper.”

"You... you don't mind?" Frisk's voice was barely a whisper.

"Not at all. I'm always happy to help my children."

She was so nice. Just as nice as she had been the first time Frisk had met her. She was just like a mother. “Thank you,” they said in a voice that had begun to tremor. Try as they might, they didn’t seem able to steady it. It was fluctuating like the billows of a sea. “Thank you,” they repeated, swallowing around a lump in their throat. The urge to cry was making their eyes ache. They squeezed them shut, taking a series of deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to restrain their grief.

They missed their family. They missed their friends. They even missed the little white stars they had stuck to their bedroom ceiling with blu-tak. They desperately wished to go to sleep and wake up to those luminescent stars bunched above them, a reminder that the nightmares that plagued them in their sleep would always go away once they had opened their eyes. Their home life had been tremulous, but anything was better than being trapped down in the Underground with no future and no past. What was the point of being alive if you weren't happy?

Against their volition, they had begun to sob.

"S-sorry, I don't know what's c-come over me. I just - I can't seem to stop -"

Toriel slid off the chair and to her knees, pulling Frisk into her bosom and stroking a hand through their thick brown hair, making soft, soothing noises while Frisk sobbed so hard that their entire body shook. They ceased trying to stop the tears. There was no point. They were beyond the point where they could control their emotions. “It’s okay,” Toriel whispered. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

And maybe they would, but that wouldn’t change the hopelessness of Frisk’s situation.

* * *

“The kid passed through here earlier.”

“I know,” Chara replied, sounding distracted. He was trying to remove a sock from Sans’ self-sustaining tornado without destabilizing it. “They asked to see Toriel. I let them.”

Sans frowned at Chara as best he could without a malleable brow. It mainly consisted of him increasing the shadow surrounding his eye sockets. “Look, usually I’d keep to myself, but I have to know why you brought them back. You never did during previous resets. So why now?”

“Do I need a reason?” Rather than grabbing sock, Chara had managed to grab a piece of crumpled up paper, which he read and promptly discarded. “This room is disgusting, by the way. You really ought to clean it.”

“It’s organized chaos,” Sans informed him. “And it’s a little too late to be making yourself friends, you know.”

“I beg your pardon.” That had Chara’s full attention.

“That’s why you freed Frisk, right? Because you don’t have any friends. And you want one.”

“You’re mistaken,” Chara answered in a drawl. He strode over to Sans’ sock collection and carefully gathered them into his hands. Several of them escaped his grasp on his way back to the trash tornado. What socks remained were carefully set down in front of it. “I have Asriel. I don’t need anyone else,” he muttered, seating himself on Sans' bed. He threw one of the socks into the tornado and watched as it cycled around once before slamming into the wall. “Frisk has no purpose beyond improving morale.”

“I know for a fact you could have done that without Frisk.”

“Perhaps, but this is easier, and it doesn’t require a reset.” Chara threw another sock into the tornado. Gentler, this time, so it wouldn’t go spinning out of control. It soon merged with the rest of the trash.

“Heh.” Sans strode to the opposite end of his mattress, sitting down. He was heavy enough to create a dip that momentarily unbalanced Chara. “I guess I can’t complain about that.”

Chara glanced over their shoulder at him. “You should help them along. You’re highly regarded among the monsters.”

Sans chuckled, low and soft. “That would be indirectly helping you, and I’m not going to do that.”

“You should ought to be more polite when talking to your _king_ ," Chara chastised. "You wouldn’t want your brother to suffer for your insubordination.” This was the only threat that worked on Sans nowadays. He was apathetic to his own well-being.

Sans’ jaw visibly tightened. “No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed. With clear reluctance, he added, “Sorry.”

Chara turned so their back was to the wall, draping their legs over the side of the mattress. It wasn’t an especially comfortable position, considering how thin and worn Sans’ mattress was, but they had sat there so often that they had become accustomed to the springs that dug into their behind and the coarseness of the material. “You’re going to have to do more than that if you want my forgiveness.” 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Entertainment,” was all Chara said. This was something he had suggested on several occasions, and Sans knew the drill by now.

The skeletons right eye filled with a florescent blue iris, a headlight in the dark of the room. A wide array of similarly coloured animals materialized in mid-air, in front of Chara, all indistinct and featureless, but recognizable for what animal they were. Birds and dogs and cats and some other creatures that weren’t of the human realm. Chara sat back and observed them glide through the air.

The magic of monsters intrigued Chara. It always had, even when Chara had been a child and little able to comprehend the world around them. There was no such magic on the surface. There was no magic at all. Humans had discarded the use of it a long time ago and it was now regarded as fiction. It had made Chara’s first foray into the Underground an interesting one, full of confusion and disbelief.

That didn't mean humans were _completely_ devoid of magic. They did have 'determination', though it only presented itself in places containing a high concentration of magic, i.e. the Underground. Courtesy of the six lost souls that had fallen to Asgore’s trident, Chara now had determination in excess. It was more than he honestly needed, and it didn't enable him to change himself a being able to use all magicks as he had initially hoped. Every time he tried, there was just something… missing. Something completely out of his reach now he was neither monster nor human. When he indulged in magic, he had to experience it vicariously through others. But he supposed that was better than not being able to experience it at all.

Chara reached out to touch one of the floating animals and pulled back with a hiss the moment contact was made.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that,” said Sans. “They’re usually a weapon. They’re supposed to inflict pain.”

“You could have told me before I reached for them.”

“They’re blue. I thought you’d have figured it out on your own.”

There was a pun in there somewhere, but Sans didn’t utter it. He scarcely made puns at all these days, perhaps because he knew Chara was fond of them. “You didn’t try to stop me while I was _in the process_ of reaching for them,” Chara observed.

Sans had one of the animals frolic in a little closer, and then dart back out. There was sweat beading on his forehead. “Yeah, I didn’t.”

At least he was honest. “You can stop now. I’m going to wait outside.”

“For?”

“Frisk.” He heaved himself to his feet. “They’ll have to come through here on their way back to the throne room.”

Sans sprawled out on his bed the moment Chara had vacated it. “Go easy on the kid.”

To that, Chara was silent. He wasn’t going to show Frisk any special treatment. The sole recipient of his favoritism was Asriel, who had earned his appreciation through love and loyalty, and that wasn’t likely to change.

Once outside, he sat down on the middle-most step and waited. It was cold enough that he thoughtlessly hugged his chest to his knees and shoved his hands beneath his armpits, trying to warm himself. This body was just as susceptible to the cold as the average human. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Frisk to arrive. A ten minute wait at most. When they strode into sight, they were disheveled and tired and continuously tugging their hair behind their shoulders so it wouldn’t stick to their wet cheeks. Chara stood to meet them before they could amble on past.

“How did it go?” Judging by their appearance, not very well.

But Frisk laughed and grinned, showing off a set of pearly white teeth. “It was okay. They gave me some advice.” A sniffle. “She isn’t the reason I started crying.”

“I don’t need to know the reason," Chara said, walking alongside Frisk. They would dawdle their way back to the throne room. “What was her advice?”

“There wasn’t a whole lot she could tell me. It was basically ‘just be yourself’ and some directions to reading material.”

“From the local library?”

“Um – yeah. I think so. She wrote the titles on my hand.” Frisk extended said hand to Chara, who examined the text scrawled neatly across their palm and wrist. Many of the suggestions were books Chara had already read. “Most of them are about history and the culture of monsters. I think only one of them is about being an ambassador, and it’s a bibliography.”

“They sound useful enough.” If nothing else, Frisk could utilize them when forging relationships. “We’ll pick them up now.” Turning on his heel, Chara strode purposely back the way they had come and over to the ‘librarby’. Frisk trailed behind. When they finally managed to close the ocean of space between them, Frisk remained close as Chara pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Frisk stood there, doing nothing, for almost an entire minute before they finally realized Chara was waiting for them to retrieve their books. Looking embarrassed, they darted over to the closest shelf and began searching. Chara occupied himself with a brochure for an upcoming read-a-thon, one he would most definitely not be participating in.

Their lack of library card meant Frisk had to fill out a form before they were able to take the books. The longer Chara was made to wait, the more impatient he became. He nigh dragged Frisk out of the building the moment books had finished being processed. This dragging continued until they had reached the outskirts of Snowdin, at which point Chara was confident enough that there would be no more interruptions to let Frisk walk at their own pace.

“Chara?”

He side-eyed Frisk, arching an eyebrow. A silent ‘yes?’

“I don’t know if, uh. If it was your intention.” They shrugged. “But thanks for coming to pick me up. It’s almost like you give a damn about me, which makes me feel a little less hopeless.”

Chara regarded them with silent disbelief before they responded. “I’m - just keeping an eye on you, Frisk.”

“Yeah, well. Continue ‘keeping an eye on me’, then. I appreciate it more than the way you usually treat me.”

* * *

The Prince of the Underground also responded to the title ‘cook’. Frisk couldn’t cook and Chara didn’t want to, so the role was left to Asriel, who had a natural aptitude for cooking. In order to cater to Chara’s needs (and now for Frisk’s as well), Asriel had taught himself several recipes from a human cookbook that had fallen into the Underground. Humans couldn’t subsist on the same food as monsters. Their digestive systems were different, and in order to remain healthy their bodies required more sustenance than what could be found in the snail-related recipes taught by his mother. Most human recipes needed ingredients Asriel had no hope of acquiring, but he made do with what equivalents he could find in the underground. Vegetoids instead of vegetables, synthetic meat instead of animal meat, and whatever condiments Grillby could spare instead of herbs and spices.

He had cooked spaghetti today. The sauce was made out of what few vegetables could be found throughout the Underground, many of which were vegetoids, and the meat was a synthetic chicken, which Chara had shown a preference for. They sat around the table Chara had set up in the small room situated just before the barrier, quietly eating the food on their plates. Frisk toyed with their bracelet throughout dinner while Chara was silent and still.

It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“So,” Asriel began, swallowing a mouthful of spaghetti. “You spent all day reading books, Frisk. Have they been useful?”

“Kind of. I’m reading about the ambassador that was around before the war.” They prodded their meal around on their plate. They had eaten most of the sauce, but there was a significant amount of spaghetti left. “Their position sounds a lot more complex than mine, even if we have the same title.”

“There are too few humans to necessitate the same amount of work,” said Chara.

“Two in total.” Asriel looked inquisitively to Chara. “Or… one?”

“Categorize me as human if you want to. That is what I look like.” Chara leaned their chin on a palm and licked the end of their fork. “It simplifies things.”

“You aren’t human?” Frisk asked, surprised.

“Technically, no.”

“They’re probably more monster than human,” Asriel said, laughing. “But they’re not really monster, either. They’re just Chara!”

“Just Chara,” Chara agreed with a nod. “And that’s all the discussion I’m willing to have on the matter. What I am isn’t of any importance.” There was a pause, but he continued speaking before either Frisk or Asriel could interrupt. “I plan to go out for a walk later. Asriel, I’d like you to stay here and keep Frisk entertained.”

“Entertained?” he repeated uncertainly, looking to Frisk for an idea of how he might go about this task. “Sure, I can do that. But usually you take me on your walks.” Doubt flittered over his face. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“Not at all. I took you with me _before_ we acquired a guest. And right now, I’d like you to keep that guest entertained.”

“They aren’t really a guest if they’re staying here permanently,” Asriel mumbled.

“Don’t worry, Asriel; we’ll have fun!” Frisk exclaimed, sounding chipper. Their expression didn’t quite match the tone of their voice. The skin below their eyes was creased and their smile just that little bit too tight.

Guilt prompted Asriel to try for their own smile; they had probably made Frisk feel like a burden with their complaint. “It has been a while since I've had company that isn't Chara. I guess it'll be fun.” His smile lengthened as he turned to Chara. “Maybe we could _all_ go for a walk next time?”

“Maybe,” Chara replied dismissively. He forked a few stands of spaghetti into his mouth, chewed, and then swallowed.

“We could go to Waterfall. I haven’t been there in ages!”

Chara offered a non-committal grunt.

Frisk, on the other hand, was enthused by this idea. “The echo flower fields are really beautiful. We should take something to eat and sit there for a while.”

Again, Chara offered a non-committal grunt, finishing off the remainder of his meal. Clearly he was more interested in finishing his food than conversing with his company.

Asriel nudged him. “Come on Chara! You’re outnumbered here. You have to come with us to Waterfall.”

“I’m the king. I’m never outnumbered.”

“I’m your prince, and Frisk’s your ambassador! That has to count for something!”

Frisk giggled. Whatever troubles had plagued them earlier in the day had momentarily been forgotten. “Asriel’s right; your ambassador and prince are advising you to come to Waterfall with them, so you have to. It’s your duty as a king.”

Chara rolled their eyes. “I’ll oblige, but not because I’ve been ‘outnumbered’. A walk will give us time to discuss important matters.”

"Great!" With a grin, Asriel leaned in to whisper to Frisk. “See, he isn't always a bad guy."


	4. A slight improvement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter's a little shorter than the others, but it fleshes out the world Frisk now lives in a little more and features some relationship development! So I hope you guys enjoy it.

Frisk had promised Asriel FUN, and that came in the form three rounds of chess over cups of freshly squeezed orange juice. Squeezed by them, which only added to the fun. This sort of simple leisure was right up Asriel’s alley. He had never been a boisterous individual, barring his time as Flowey, and even as a child it was Chara who had been the proactive one and Chara who had taken initiative. While he had exhibited a healthy amount of enthusiasm and creativity, he had overall been a simple child. A mellow one. This had been a blessing for his parents, who had slept throughout the night instead of waking up periodically to the shrill bleating of their infant son.

Each game of chess ended in Asriel’s victory. Frisk was by no means a bad player, but he’d had years to develop an analytical mind and his ability to discern the best route to victory hadn’t been lost in the transition from flower to monster. He was a fantastic player. Maybe not as good as Chara, who had a remarkable, inherent intelligence that neither he nor Frisk could ever hope to match, but good enough to be a challenge for Frisk.

Frisk didn’t seem to mind. They were the one who kept on requesting a rematch, much to Asriel’s amusement. He was more than happy to oblige. It’d been a while since he had played chess, and even longer since he’d won a game. When he played against Chara, he inevitably lost. Not that he was a bad loser or anything, and Chara was a humble victor (in fact, a little too humble; Asriel wished he’d express himself more). Chess just tended to lose its appeal after you’d lost over twenty times in a row.

They were well into the evening when Frisk decided to wreak havoc on their good mood by bringing up a subject that made Asriel’s stomach feel like it was trying to evacuate through his bowels whenever it came up.

“So, your parents.”

He forced a laugh, like Frisk was telling a joke. “Do you want to play a different game? We have cards, too,” he said in attempt to change the subject.

“I really want to talk about your parents,” Frisk insisted. “I know it’s not a comfortable subject, but you can’t just go on pretending they don’t exist.”

“Frisk..." Asriel hunched his shoulders. “Talking about them won’t change anything. It’s not worth it.”

“Just humor me, please?” Frisk asked, reaching their hands imploringly across the table. Asriel withdrew his own before Frisk could grab them.

“Couldn’t we just continue playing games? I don’t want to think about them.”

“But they think about you all the time.”

A big slab of shame pressed down on him so hard that he couldn’t stand to look at Frisk any longer. He frowned at the floor. “They shouldn’t. They should disown me.”

“You’re their son! They would never do that!”

“That's not true. We haven't been a family in a very long time. Mom replaced me with any kid that fell down here, and dad forgot about me, and I replaced them both with Chara." He hadn’t meant to start divulging his feelings, but it was hard to stop once you got started. "Chara’s the only family I have left.” 

“That doesn’t sound right. Asgore said he was thrilled when you came back.” Frisk’s hands had returned to their sides and they were worrying them in their lap as they spoke. “Didn’t they look happy? I mean, when you came back last time, they—“ Their mouth suddenly snapped shut with a clacking of teeth.

Asriel gave a nervous titter. “It’s okay. I know there have been some different timelines.” Though he didn’t know any specifics, and hearing that this wasn’t the first time he’d been reinvigorated with a soul was surprising. Had Chara given him one in the past? More importantly, what had Frisk’s role been at the time? He decided not to ask, though it would have been a welcome change of subject. They were deep into discussing his parents so they might as well continue. It was too late to turn back now. “They were happy. I mean, for a while. When I managed to tear myself away from Chara long enough to see them.” He hesitated on his next words. “I just wasn’t the same after everything that had happened. Once I’d gotten used to being Asriel again, who I was prior to that kept on influencing my actions and my priorities, and after a while, I just kind of stopped having anything to do with my parents, and they stopped having anything to do with me. We just weren’t a family anymore.”

“You drifted apart? From your _parents_ …?” There was disbelief in Frisk’s voice.

“It sounds weird when you phrase it like that,” he said, smiling sadly. “But I was – my name used to be Flowey, and I was Flowey for a very long time. Longer than I was ever Asriel. I spent decades hating my parents for abandoning me and telling myself Chara wouldn’t have abandoned me if he had been alive.” He ran his hands up through the few stands of hair that extended from his scalp. “And I was right. He gave me a soul while my father refused to even show me the six he had collected. He had the chance to get his son back and he prioritized everyone else over me.”

Frisk’s brow wrinkled with concern. “You know Chara…” It was Frisk’s turn to hesitate. “He killed you in previous timelines. You know that, right?”

“He killed _Flowey_.” The volume of his voice had risen, the offended edge sharp and clear. “And if he hadn’t Flowey would have killed him, because in their world it was ‘kill or be killed’.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“Well, you did.” He didn’t manage to maintain his anger for long, voice sinking down to a neutral volume as he continued. “I know there’s a lot to criticize about Chara, and I know our relationship isn’t perfect, but he’s done a lot for me.”

“Sorry,” they whispered the apology. One syllable made soft by shame. Asriel felt bad about having lost his temper the moment it was uttered, but Frisk continued before he could say as much. “I’ll _try_ to be more open-minded about Chara, for your sake, but if I do that, will you be more open-minded about your parents?” Their eyes darted up to Asriel’s. “They love you and they miss you, and nothing they’ve done has been done with the intention of hurting you.”

“But they did hurt me, even if they didn’t mean to.” He folded his arms over his chest, hoping he didn’t look as miserable as he felt. “And I hurt them, so it’s better if we don’t see each other. We’ll just make each others lives worse.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Asriel said, mouth curving into a smile. “Before you arrived here, Chara said you were an idealist.”

“Not as much as I used to be,” they admitted. “But I’m making an effort for you, since I like you so much.”

“Already? It’s only been a day.”

Frisk lapsed into a momentary silence. They were looking everywhere but Asriel. “Yeah,” they said at last, fingers dancing over the locket on their sternum. “I guess your great chess playing skills really won me over!” Without warning, they plucked a knight off their side of the board and tossed it at Asriel, who laughed and flapped his hands in an attempt to bat it away. It went flying across the room, smacking into the floor and skidding across the floorboards. Neither of them went to retrieve it.

“That’s a weird way of showing your admiration!” Asriel scoffed and picked up his own knight to pelt at Frisk. It bounced off their collarbone.

It wasn’t long before their conversation had dissolved into the two of them lobbing chess pieces at each other and ducking behind furniture as cover. This didn’t cease until they had exhausted their supply of chess pieces, which only happened once most had become lodged behind furniture or were too far away to be retrieved. A few had escaped and made their way into the main room, somehow. Most were under the bed.

When Chara returned to them crouched in the middle of his room, panting and laughing and surrounded by the remains of the fallen, i.e. chess pieces, he turned around and walked straight back out.

* * *

Frisk brought a basket full of sandwiches on their trip to Waterfall. All of them were either synthetic chicken and salad or peanut butter; simple but tasty. Frisk had been the one to make them, possessing enough culinary talent to construct a decent sandwich, while their usual chef had taken the ferry to Snowdin to pick up some drinks. The only one who hadn’t contributed to preparations for their little excursion was Chara, but Frisk hadn’t expected he would. He was _much_ too busy and _much_ too important for such ‘menial tasks’, as Chara put it. Never mind that he often spent an inordinate amount of time lounging on his throne with his nose buried in a book.

They found a quiet area among the echo flowers and laid out Toriel’s old cape, now being re-purposed as a picnic blanket. Frisk had skipped this section of the Underground when traveling to Toriel to avoid soiling their shoes, so when Frisk looked up to better survey their surroundings – because they warranted more than just a glance – a feeling of nostalgia washed over them. Memory hadn’t been able to adequately capture just how spectacular Waterfall was. The river was so crisp and clear it seemed almost luminescent, and the surrounding land a vast field of black that only emphasized the beautiful neon of the water. The echo flowers that sprouted out of the ground were unlike anything Frisk had ever seen on the surface, mimicking the colour of the water from stem to bud, and they, too, were a sight to behold. They could remember how they felt the first time they had visited this place. Confused, a little scared, but there had been awe beneath all of that. It was nice to return under happier circumstances, even if they weren’t ideal.

Frisk set the picnic basket to their side and started handing out sandwiches. Peanut butter for Asriel, chicken for Chara, while Frisk took pot luck and grabbed whatever their hand first came in contact with. Which was Asriel’s fingers, but Asriel quickly drew back so Frisk could retrieve their food.

“It’s really pretty, huh?” Asriel observed, biting into their sandwich and chewing. Evidently they hadn’t been taught the ‘don’t speak with your mouth full’ rule as they were doing just that. “Mom and dad didn’t like us playing here when we were kids. They were afraid we would fall into the water.”

“That was a legitimate concern in your case,” said Chara.

“Says the person who tripped into a hole.” Asriel nudged Chara with an elbow. “You were awful lucky I was there to find you!”

“Don’t listen to him.” Chara turned to address Frisk. “He got his ears caught in a bush once and cried for an hour.”

“Really?” Frisk grinned at Asriel. “A whole hour.”

The colour of Asriel’s face had gone from white to a faint pink, and he was attempting to use aforementioned ears to hide. “Getting your ears caught in bushes is a good reason to cry! They’re sensitive when you’re a kid!”

“Excuses,” Chara said, and then took a bite out of his own sandwich, chewing and swallowing.

Asriel might’ve been pouting if he’d had any lips to pout with. “I’m not the only one with embarrassing stories, you know.”

“Maybe not, but mine is more of an arsenal while yours is a few bullets.”

“Not if I include _recent_ embarrassing events.”

By the way Chara’s expression stretched into one of abject horror, Frisk had to guess Asriel had something extra juicy on him. And they were intrigued. “You definitely can’t hold out on me now.”

“Yes he can,” Chara snapped.

Asriel’s made a low, contemplative sound deep in their throat before they opened their mouth to continue. It was promptly covered by Chara’s hands. The sight was as hilarious as it was startling. Frisk hadn’t thought the ‘Great King of The Underground’ capable of being embarrassed.

“You will not speak another word,” Chara ordered hushed, angry voice intended to be intimidating, but Asriel was just laughing around the hands keeping his jaw pinched together. Frisk couldn’t help but join in, stifling their chuckles by biting down on their bottom lip. Their attempt to remain straight-faced wasn’t very convincing.

“Is it really that bad?” they asked.

Apparently it was, because Chara turned and gave them the dirtiest glare Frisk had ever seen in response. That just made whatever the embarrassing tale happened to be all the more intriguing.

“Are you sure you’re not just being _sensitive_?” Frisk asked, hoping this might provoke Chara into releasing Asriel’s snout. No such luck. Chara removed one hand, but one remained under Asriel’s chin, pressing his jaw shut.

“Do I need to cover your mouth as well,” he asked, though he wouldn’t be able to reach Frisk if he tried. There was enough distance between them that Frisk could easily flee if necessary.

“Nah, I'll... what’s the word you would use? Concede?” A pause, and then a nod. “I'll _concede_.”

“Good,” said Chara. He tugged Asriel down until they were face to face. Despite this, Asriel still appeared to be having the time of his life. “And you?”

Freeing himself from Chara’s meager grip would have been effortless for Asriel. He was larger, stronger, and his jaw looked powerful enough to inflict some serious damage were he to close it around a limb with the intent to harm. But he was also kind and loyal to a fault, and he merely lifted his arms in surrender.

At last, Chara released him. Asriel pressed a chaste kiss to Chara’s fingers before he withdrew, a token of apology. It was enough to mollify Chara, who brushed away the sandwich he’d thrown aside in favor of silencing Asriel and picked out a new one for himself, settling back against the wall to resume eating.

“So,” Frisk began, looking between them. “Do I get a consolation story?” Seeing Chara’s frown, they quickly amended their question. “It doesn’t have to be an embarrassing one! Just something from when you guys were growing up.”

Chara swallowed their mouthful of chicken and bread before he replied. “Our childhood was a brief event. It was more like growing up with a close neighbor than a sibling.”

“That isn’t a story, Chara!” Asriel objected. “Tell Frisk about one of our birthdays. Those were always great.”

“You tell them.”

“I’m a better storyteller, anyway,” Asriel took a sip of his own soda, and then proceeded on to the story. “Okay, so, our parents would always celebrate our birthday by presenting us to the residents of the Underground. They’d take us out among massive crowds of monsters and we would ride their shoulders, and dad would shout something to the effect of,” he spread his hands and puffed out his chest, pretending to address a crowd, “‘The future of humans and monsters!’.”

“Everyone cheered,” added Chara. “I thought it ridiculous that they were still doing that while we were teenagers.”

“They were both a lot larger than us! Besides, you rode on dads shoulders.”

Dragging himself up by the wall, Chara started a slow stride in the direction of a distant echo flower, his can of soda in one hand and his sandwich in the other. “I’m going for a walk.”

“You’re already leaving? We only got here ten minutes ago,” Frisk complained.

“I want to hear what the echo flowers have to say.”

As per usual, there was no room for argument. He departed, leaving Asriel and Frisk on their lonesome for the first time in several days. Frisk wasn’t going to complain. Private time with Asriel was a rarity and enjoyable when they did have it. Being close to Frisk in age, Asriel was young enough to be able to relate to Frisk in ways none of the adults they spent time with could.

“We can still have a good time, even with Chara being himself,” said Frisk, sidling in closer to their remaining company.

“He’ll get bored of listening to the echo flowers sooner or later.” Asriel finished off the last of his sandwich, swallowing and reaching into the basket for another one. “Want to play chess again tomorrow? I managed to locate all the pieces.” He snorted. “I found the last piece inside a drawer. Dunno how it got in there.”

“Well, don’t look at me! It was probably you!”

“Me? You were the one throwing them towards the ceiling!”

“Better chance them hitting your head that way!” Frisk exclaimed with a giggle.

Asriel snorted. “You only managed to get me three times.”

“That’s three more than you managed to get me!”

The two exchanged playful banter for some minutes before resuming casual conversation. An indeterminable amount of time had passed before they realized Chara had yet to return. In fact, he was nowhere in sight, and Waterfall was quiet enough that they should have at least heard him prompting dialogue from the echo flowers. It wouldn’t have surprised Frisk if Chara had decided to go home without them, but Asriel was looking worried enough that Frisk thought they ought to go looking for him before returning home themselves. They gathered their cans and sandwich wrappings and picked up the basket while Asriel bundled up the blanket, carrying it under his arm. It wouldn’t take long for them to search the entirety of Waterfall. It was larger than Snowdin, but smaller than most places on the surface. If Chara was still there, he would be found.

And he was found. Not long after they had begun looking, they came upon him draped over a bench just outside Temmie village, fast asleep. This was the first Frisk had ever seen him slumbering. He looked peaceful. It was a cliché saying, but he had an innocence about him that he was devoid of while awake.

“About time.” Asriel very carefully lay the blanket over Chara. He wore a sullen expression. “He never sleeps properly during the night. It’d be okay if we weren’t sharing a bed, but usually when he gets up he’ll jostle me and I’ll end up waking up too. I used to be a light sleeper until he came along!”

So that’s why he always had bags under his eyes. “Should we stay here and let him sleep a while?”

“We don’t have to.” Sliding his arms beneath Chara’s prone body, Asriel effortlessly lifted him off the bench, carrying him bridal style. The blanket remained wrapped around him. “When he does sleep, he’s a deep sleeper. I can just carry him home.”

“Oh.” Frisk thought this rather sweet. A king carried home by their loyal companion. It was like something out of the fairy tales Frisk had indulged in as an adolescent, with a dictator king rather than a princess.

“C’mon, let’s get going.” Asriel had already started to speed walk down the faintly lit path. “The sooner we get him in bed, the more sleep I’ll get tonight.”

“Coming!” Frisk dashed after him.


End file.
